specter.
Suppressing a groan, he sincerely began to miss his stakeout days.
Chapter Three
Dakota knew in her bones that the segment would be good.
She knew if she could just move her less-than-talkative guest in the right direction, the audience would meet him more than halfway. Once that was accomplished, this portion of her program would be off and flying.
She did what she could to make it happen.
Rather than ask what the audience could do to protect themselves against a potential stalker, Dakota had given her question a more personal ring by asking what he, Ian Russell, would do to protect a woman who came to him seeking help. As he cleared his throat, a hush fell over her normally boisterous audience. It was as if every woman there was hanging on his every word, probably envisioning herself as a damsel in distress being rescued by this modern-day Galahad.
Everyone loved this kind of fantasy. Dakota was counting on it.
Ian didn’t disappoint her.
Even though his response was mostly technical, it was enough to arouse the imaginations of the women in the audience. Randy was quick to chime in, augmenting points here and there, adding layers to the audience’s daydream. And it didn’t hurt any to have the two men casually mention successfully foiling a kidnapping attempt of one of their clients.
As she listened, the details had a very familiar ring. Her eyes widened.
“That was Rebecca Anderson,” Dakota suddenly realized out loud. Six months ago the story about the A-list actress and her would-be kidnapper had made all the major papers, not to mention the rounds of evening tabloid TV. “You two were responsible for saving her?” How could she have missed something like that? Dakota upbraided herself silently.
“Actually, Ian was.” Randy looked at his partner with the kind of pride that only the closest camaraderie bred.
Well, that explained why she didn’t know, Dakota thought. The man probably vanished at the first sign of a reporter, like any superhero caught slipping into his secret identity.
Dakota looked at the man on the sofa, no small amount of admiration flooding through her veins. She recalled that the kidnapper had been a burly, giant of a man who must have had seventy pounds and five inches on Ian. The lightest thing about the stalker had been his mind, which had clearly taken a holiday when it came to the subject of the glamorous Rebecca Anderson. When the police took him away, he was screaming that Rebecca was his wife, that she’d promised undying love to him and he was going to see to it that she never looked at another man ever again.
Dakota leaned into Ian and asked in a stage whisper, “Want to talk about it some more?”
If there was a man who was less uncomfortable than Ian Russell at this moment, she would gladly have paid for his passage to oblivion.
“No,” Ian replied.
“Okay then, it’s time for questions and answers,” she glibly informed her audience.
The moment the words were out of her mouth, a veritable sea of hands shot up, all waving madly to catch her attention. Dakota didn’t recall ever having seen so many hands raised as she did this afternoon. Delighted, she got started, selecting women at random.
Ten minutes later there was no indication that the questions were going to abate in the near future. Addressing questions to both men, the audience was leaning sixty-forty toward Ian.
Dakota briefly debated terminating the segment, then decided to go for it and let it continue. When you had a hit on your hands, you just kept going. Wasn’t that something her grandfather had once taught her? So, Dakota “just kept going.”
It was evident to her that the last-minute interview would go down as one of her best. There was no doubt in her mind that the segment was an unqualified hit.
As it ran over its allotted time slot, Dakota made a quick decision to ask Joe Lansing, their musical guest, to return the next day in order to showcase his new CD. A twenty-year veteran of the business, Lansing was far too much of a professional not to know that when you found yourself holding lightning in a bottle, you didn’t set it down.
Other than pointing to various waving hands, Dakota mostly kept her silence, letting Randy and, on occasion, Ian answer the questions. Her audience appeared to be in seventh heaven. Which placed her there as well.
She’d never had an hour slip by so effortlessly, so quickly.
Even as the strains of her theme song began to weave themselves through the air, the audience gave no sign of being sated.
But all good things had to end, and her program would be over in less time than it took to say it. Time to wind things up.
She rose from her seat, immediately followed by the two men.
“All right, ladies, Ian and Randy have to get back to doing what they do best.” She beamed at the two men. Randy was grinning from ear to ear while Ian looked just the slightest bit befuddled. Funny, she wouldn’t have thought anything could have accomplished that. The man seemed far too on top of things for that to have happened. “Maybe we can persuade you two to come back sometime.”
Before either could answer, the audience cheered and chimed a resounding “Yes” in response.
Dakota laughed. “I guess that settles it, then.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw the director signal her. She gave a slight inclination of her head then looked toward the main camera. “This is Dakota Delany, thanking you for tuning in. Come by tomorrow so that I can get in another word edgewise.”
She winked, knowing that the camera was fading to the credits.
“And it’s a wrap,” the director declared, crossing to them.
Dakota looked to the wings where her own security people had converged. “Looks like the bodyguards just might need bodyguards to make their way off the stage,” she quipped.
“We finally through?” Ian asked. He didn’t bother hiding the impatient edge that had slipped into his voice. When she nodded, she suddenly felt him place his arm about her waist and abruptly guide her toward the rear. She half expected him to keep on moving once they reached backstage, but then his arm slipped away. An odd sort of regret filtered through her but she dismissed it in the next moment.
Behind her she could have sworn that she heard some of the audience audibly sighing. She became aware that Ian was watching her with more than a hint of an accusation in his eyes. Obviously this hadn’t been as good an experience for him as it had been for Randy or the audience.
“I thought your assistant said the segment was only going to be twenty minutes long.”
Dakota raised one shoulder, letting it drop casually. “Ordinarily it is. On the average, we fit in three guests every hour. But you two were an unqualified hit.” She grinned at both of them, but only Randy responded. “In the four years I’ve been doing this, I’ve never seen an audience take to guests the way they did to you two.”
Randy’s eyes were all but gleaming. With a barely concealed whoop, he looked at Ian. “Business is going to be booming,” he predicted.
Dakota nodded. “I’m sure it will be. You might even have to hire extra people.”
Ian shook his head. “I really doubt if any of those women in the audience are going to need a bodyguard in the near future.”
Her eyes met his. “You never know. As you pointed out, it’s not just celebrities who have stalkers. Regular people are plagued by them, as well.”
MacKenzie sailed up to join them, her feet barely touching the floor. She’d witnessed the show inside the production booth, having full advantage of all the cameras trained on the set.
“That was wonderful,” she enthused. She grabbed hold of Dakota’s hands. “Could you just feel